


Danger Nights

by Cythieus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confession, Danger Nights, Drug Abuse, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Up Lifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15279030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cythieus/pseuds/Cythieus
Summary: Mycroft enlists Molly for help in dealing with one of Sherlock's funks. Set after 2x01 with minor spoilers.





	Danger Nights

Christmas had taken a toll on Molly. She forced herself to ignore it and to carry on, but Sherlock didn't return to normal. He swept into her morgue making any excuse to lure her away while he worked. When possible he used the facilities when she wasn't around. She'd stood up to him, of that she was proud, but she wasn't sure if that was the part of the night he was reacting to.

By the time the spring torrents of rain swept the streets of London in March, Molly hadn't seen sign of Sherlock since the infamous cracker fortune murders. (John and Sherlock had argued about the title of the blog entry, Puttin' on the Ritz, Molly had read it of course). There was a sudden soft click in the hall and Molly lifted her gaze from the cadaver she was examining and glanced toward the door.

When the door was flung open she expected to see the familiar mop of hair followed by Watson, but there was a different pair in the doorway. The elder Holmes brother stood with a dark haired woman. The woman hadn't bothered to look up at all and Mycroft was staring at Molly with a grim look on her face.

"I'm sorry—did you, is everything okay?" Molly asked.

Mycroft sighed, shaking his head lightly. "I'm in need of your assistance Miss Hooper," he said.

Sherlock made no secret of what it was that his brother did, at least he made no secret of the fact that he was someone very high up in the British government. While Molly didn't think that she would register on anyone's radar as useful in some espionage situation wasn't that what made someone good for that sort of thing? Then she worried that perhaps something she had done or said had come back to bite her in her tiny ass. Mycroft had never called on her before, while he kept tabs on her and they had spoken before it was never in a professional capacity.

Molly peeled the gloves off her thin fingers and deposited them in the waste bin. "I'm sorry?" she repeated again, stammering.

"Doctor Watson has left town, it seems everyone is going on holiday—as I hear you're only just getting back," Mycroft said closing the gap between them.

A smile crept over Molly's face. "Oh did Sherlock tell you," she paused the smile quickly dissipating. "Of course he didn't, you can probably check into my passport or something of that ilk…"

"Despite what my dear brother says, I do care about his well being. As such I have seen it fit to keep tabs on him and all of those he deems important in his life," Mycroft said. All this time the woman on her phone was wrapping away on the keys.

Molly wondered how much of this was a ploy? Was she so easily foiled that both of the Holmes brothers had the key to her lock? She considered it a flattery to be counted among those important to Sherlock and she would take her chances with it being a ploy. "Then this is about Sherlock?"

"You graduated from University of Nottingham Medical School in 2002, a year before they opened the school in Derby, correct? How much exposure did you have to mental aliments and drug addictions during your studies?" Mycroft asked.

She was taken aback by the matter of a fact way in which he stated things from her past that she would have thought he'd have no reason to know. "I know a bit about it, why?"

"Depression. How much do you know about it?"

"Enough. Seen what it can do to a person," she said.

"My brother has…funks. Sherlock isn't all just charm and wit and brains. When he takes out his frustrations its usually on himself and I've kept a close watch on him. Usually better than I currently am doing because it seems I might have let my assets lax.”

"Are you suggesting that Sherlock is on drugs?" Molly asked.

Mycroft ignored her. "Doctor Watson is out of town, Mrs. Hudson has gone to see her sister and Lestrade is indisposed due to an injury sustained on a case he worked with my brother—that leaves just you," he said.

"Me?"

"You're to follow my assistant here down to the car and ride back to Baker Street, pick something up for my brother on the way, something sweet. That fits the kind of thing you would do. Say you're popping by to see him and it's just an innocent visit."

Molly shook her head. "I don't do innocent visits, in fact Sherlock hasn't wanted me around since Christmas. I think I embarrassed him—I know he insulted me, but I shouldn't have been so crass…"

“Stupid girl, do you think he avoids someone who challenges him? Have you met my brother?" Mycroft asked.

The woman who was on her phone chuckled lightly and both Molly and Mycroft glanced over at her. She looked up, her hazel eyes brimming with tears of laughter. "The funny things these cats do," she said holding her Blackberry up to show a picture of a kitten with some indecipherable caption.

Mycroft turned his attentions back to Molly. "My brother avoids you because he avoids anyone sexually attracted to him. Before he found you obnoxious and only thought of you as being someone whom he had to deal with to gain access to this place. Now you're a woman who is in love with him and has serious aspirations about attracting his affections. You're the most frightening thing to Sherlock."

"You make him sound so…alien."

"Depression—he hates himself with a passion and he desires everyone else to do the same. Someone honestly loving him is scary. The last woman that loved him, he sent to her grave," Mycroft said. "All in the name of winning."

"And you want to send me to him?"

"Of course, you're not like her, you're not blackmailing an entire country. Trust me when I say you'll be safe. I just need you to make sure that he is. When he has these little danger nights his behavior can be erratic, if you love him as much as you say then you should be able to stomach something a little less savory about him."

Molly washed up in the sink and stripped the lab coat off. "Can I change clothes? And what about my work?" she pointed at the body.

"This man was killed by a lover whom he got pregnant, I shall be sure to inform your boss," said Mycroft.

* * *

* * *

Molly was made to walk the last block up to 221B Baker Street because those were the instructions Mycroft had given the driver. She didn't really know where Mycroft had gone, she had been in the car alone with the Blackberry woman (Molly had tried to tell the woman about her cat, Toby, but the woman just glared at her before looking back down).

She approached the door and knocked lightly only to find that it was partially open. As she touched the handle something wet and sticky was all over the knob. She pulled her hand away to find gritty blood on her palm. Not bothering to think about what else it could mean, Molly bolted through the door and up the stairs heading for Sherlock's flat. "Sherlock! Sherlock are you okay?"

Sherlock Holmes was sitting on the floor near the computer desk with bloody gashes on his face, his knuckles and hands were stained red and his eye showed the initial stages of Ecchymosis. "Why are you yelling like that Molly?" he asked weakly.

She rushed to his side and stooped down, putting the sweets and wine off to the side. "What happened to you?"

"I might have made an observation about some footballer being a homosexual when I saw him interview on the television at the pub. A fan of his wasn’t thrilled about my deduction,” he said.

Molly touched the reddened skin around his eye and grimaced. "Let me clean you up," she said.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit," he grunted as she helped him up.

"Doctor Watson wanted me to check in on you, he told me before he left.”

Sherlock nodded as they headed to the kitchen. "Ah, so Mycroft then?"

"Yes," Molly didn't hesitate. "Sit down, please.” Sherlock did as he was told, it was painful to stand by the look of it. "Is there a first aid…"

"Top cabinet to the right of the refrigerator," Sherlock said.

Molly retrieved the box and opened it on the table, the supplies were scarce and it was obvious that this first aid kit had seen its fair share of use. She picked out what she could and went to cleaning his wounds. Sherlock didn't flinch. Molly finally gathered the nerve to say something about it as she handed him the ice pack to put on his eye. “You don’t have to do that. Act tough, you know. Hold that there…" She moved her hand as he took hold of the ice pack wrapped in a paper towel.

“You're much gentler than John, we should have you on full time," he said dryly.

"I feel like I am with you to popping by all the time," Molly let out one of her embarrassingly awkward giggles. "The world's first consulting mortuary worker…"

Sherlock let out a short laugh before he glanced at her. "Don't make jokes, Molly," but the second he had finished the sentence they both burst into boisterous laughter and continued to laugh until Holmes was doubled over in pain. "I think one of those hooligans bruised my ribs. It may have happened when they threw me against that Fiat…it could have happened when they were stomping me…"

"Oh dear," Molly motioned for him to lift his shirt so she could see and instantly she could tell that his predictions were right. She pressed her fingers against an abrasion and could feel the angry heat rising from his skin. "I need to wrap this," she said.

"There's more gauze under the sink," he said.

"Odd place to keep it," she went to the cabinet and threw it open to pluck out the roll of gauze. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you act like you don't want me around all of a sudden?" Molly asked. "Christmas night in the morgue you tried to get me to leave and then every since then…"

"You continue to leave so it's safe to assume that you don't want to be around me, is it not your lab?" he asked.

"That's just-I leave out of politeness," she said as she began to circle the wound with the roll. "I just don't want to be rude," she said. "You know, we really care about you and if we didn't we wouldn't…" Molly trailed off.

Sherlock looked down into her face like he smelled the perfume for the first time and was just noticing the splash of color in her cheeks. Then something snapped in Molly's head, like a light was turned on. He had been out picking a fight to do this to himself and she knew it because he would have known which team every one of those men supported.

Hell, he would have known was toothpaste they used.

If he had done this to himself, Mycroft might have been right. She didn't know what had triggered it but if it was excitement he needed…a game then maybe she could do something small to help.

Maybe she could challenge him?

"I felt bad," she said. "Mycroft mentioned the thing about you being inexperienced with woman. It's no reason to be scared of me, really."

"What did he say?"

Molly shrugged.

"I am not frightened of you."

"Since Christmas you've seemed like it, you even looked a little quivery when you kissed my cheek," her face reddened here and she couldn't help it.

It was okay thought because Sherlock was redder still and he seemed to have lost control of any kind of thought as he bolted up from his chair. He stood staring down at Molly menacingly and she shrunk back. He grabbed her face and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips, she knocked him off and slapped him in the face.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"One could ask you the same," Molly said.

"I was proving a point," Sherlock said. "Kissing isn't so difficult that one can't just do it."

"And dating is about more than kissing, have you ever even been on a date, Sherlock?" Molly said.

"So he told you that did he? Did he tell you how your ex-boyfriend walks around referring to me as The Virgin?"

Molly stared into his eyes as the anger slowly dissipated and she dropped to pick up the gauze. "Mycroft did no such thing, but I don't find it to be a bad thing that you're a virgin," she said. "Most men either want in your knickers or want nothing to do with you? That's my experience…or they're gay."

"Dating, romance, sex…they've got no place in my life," Sherlock said.

"But drugs and drinking do? If it's all just chemical reactions external stimuli, what's wrong with trading one for another?" asked Molly.

He stripped out of his shirt and he was much more bruised than she thought, she started back wrapping his ribs and the tension in the air broke. "What would you have me do then? Take you out to dinner and a movie?"

Sherlock at the movies? She had once witnessed him watch and episode of Doctor Who and pick everything apart, they couldn't attend any film that would satisfy his mind. She was sure of it. "What if you just took me to work with you one time, just me and you on a case? Are you working one now?"

"Yes, but I'm stuck and nothing makes sense at all," Sherlock said.

"Well sometimes you just need to bounce ideas off someone else," Molly said.

"The code that these assassins are using, I don't see any sense in it, it's not like the Blind Bankers, that code was hard to break unless you had the book—this is some kind of animal code…"

"Animal code?"

"Yes, four seemingly unrelated animals…a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake…" Sherlock said.

"A lion, eagle, badger and snake…those sound vaguely familiar.”

“Well, yes. They’re all animals that I’m sure you learned when you were seven, but how do they relate to this case?” Sherlock pointed up to a stack of papers on the kitchen table. 

Molly rose and wiped the blood from her hands on a disposable towel. She leafed through the papers slowly looking for whatever it was that Sherlock had been talking about. The top sheet was a copy of an official MPS cover sheet; whether he sneaked out with it or procured from Lestrade remained to be seen. Underneath it were photos of various bodies in black and white photocopies with dead bodies from crime scenes. 

Flipping through the papers to the back there were some reports copied from the police reports with quick, sharp notes written by Sherlock dotted the margins. Molly’s eyes zipped back and forth over the pages. The animal names were mentioned, but there were other things that seemed to not make sense. A note mentioning targets for what she assumed were the assassins. 

“What’s this bit mean, the part labeled sort?” Asked Molly. The names of the people killed are divided up into five categories: the four animals and then one labeled sort.

“Each of the killings fall under one of the animals, but the targets have yet to be killed are off to the side…”

“Like they’re waiting to be sorted? Molly said. “

"What?"

Molly darted back to where her purse and the sweets rested and fished something out of her bag. She returned with her Kindle in hand and turned it on, to flick through the books stored within. "Don't tell anyone I have this, they were never officially released for e-readers," she held the device up for him to read the passage from the first Harry Potter book where the four houses and their mascots were described.

"Molly, you're a genius-I could kiss you," and he did, this time on her forehead.

"Oh?" she let out a long giggle. "I take it I can come then?" Molly asked. Sherlock just nodded.


End file.
